


A Dance to Remember

by kannjou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Harry, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, School Dances, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kannjou/pseuds/kannjou
Summary: That year, the Yule Ball had been a night to remember for nearly every wizard at Hogwarts.For Harry Potter, as well, thanks in part to one Slytherin who admittedly looked too dashing to make it into the film adaptation.Alternatively,Draco looks so good at the Yule Ball that Harry forgets about girls entirely.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Viktor Krum, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Padma Patil & Ron Weasley, Parvati Patil & Harry Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 302





	A Dance to Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElleVarem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleVarem/gifts).



> Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/mvlfqy/status/1262805983631376384?s=20) tweet
> 
> Dedicated to and requested by my dear @ElleVarem, thanks for constantly dragging me back into Drarry!  
> Special thanks to my friend Lena for being an amazing beta :)

The snow fell lightly against the brush of pavement outside the main hall and chatter filled the crisp, winter air. The night buzzed with a drifting sense of longing and promise, as couples linked arms and students greeted their professors.

Many had been waiting all year for this day: a chance to show off in front of peers or to finally start relationships whose kindling had been burning like scattered embers for more years of their wizarding education than they cared to admit. Others loathed that the night of the glorified Yule Ball was upon them. Some had missed the elusive window of opportunity to invite the partner of their dreams, while others still could not tell their right foot from their left. Needless to say, Harry belonged to the latter and was now sweating under the sweep of his grown-out fringe and the heat of his dress robes, despite the frigid cold entering through the large double-doors.

He had arrived alongside Ron, and the pair were promptly greeted by the Patil twins. After a brief foray into the lacking appeal of Ron’s attire with Professor McGonagall, Harry had been shocked into the realization that not only would he have to dance tonight, but he’d have to do it in front of everyone.

“Harry?” Parvati nudged at his arm with her elbow, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course,” Harry breathed, but of course he was not, for he had just caught a glimpse of Cho Chang draped across Cedric Diggory’s arm and she looked, well, _stunning _.__

Her silver dress robes were a rich and flattering backdrop to the dark curl of her hair, like someone had hung the night above a curve of porcelain. Harry really could not take his eyes off of her. That is, until he turned the full 180 and saw Hermione.

He placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze. The redhead merely slumped in response, no doubt choking on his earlier claims that Hermione would be spending the night alone. Not two steps later and she was comfortably hand-in-hand with one Viktor Krum.

Out of his periphery, Harry was vaguely aware that Parvati was trying to engage him in conversation, but he was all too distracted by the other Goblet of Fire competitors and still far too concerned about the upcoming dance. He simply didn’t think he had the capacity to humor her at the moment, and so he settled her questions with flat responses and half-hearted nods, until she gave up altogether.

Continuing his survey of the crowd, Harry’s eye caught on a flash of platinum blonde that was hard to miss really.

_Malfoy._

Draco was setting the coat of his three-piece suit on the back of a chair, revealing the stunning vest and collared shirt underneath. A bright white to match his fair complexion and light hair. The body of the shirt clung to his torso, a white bowtie concealing the top buttons. Conversely, the sleeves were flowy and nearly translucent, teasing just the bare minimum of skin without giving too much away, and his dark slacks sung of pride and wealth.

He watched the boy give Pansy a playful shove after what was likely a crude comment made in jest. Harry mentally noted that they must have come together. Surely only another Slytherin would happily accept Draco as a date. Realizing that he had likely been staring for too long now, Harry quickly averted his gaze.

It landed promptly on Cho and Cedric again, and he felt his heart sink as he caught her in the middle of a bout of laughter. Cedric was smiling from ear to ear as he whispered against her, his lips so close to her skin that it had Harry seeing red. Of course, leave it to Cedric to make the usually reserved Ravenclaw laugh with such abandon.

Feeling disheartened by the sight of so many laughing and having joyful conversations with their partners, Harry turned to look at Parvati, who was in the middle of some sort of eye-contact conversation with her twin across the way. Padma was leaning against the refreshments table with a look of disdain as Ron proceeded to pour four different types of punch into the same goblet.

Harry decided he didn’t want to be compared to that level of negligence and begrudgingly held out a hand. Parvati glanced at it and then at his face, waiting with a question in the furrow of her brow.

“I suppose we should...dance,” Harry settled on, because he wasn’t feeling all too good with words.

“I suppose we should,” Parvati mimicked, but gave him a soft smile that Harry recognized as a sign of excitement. She took his hand and the pair made their way to the dance floor.

A classical piece had just begun, something akin to a waltz, but a few beats into the song and it was made perfectly clear that Harry was, in fact, incompetent.

“Harry, my waist,” Parvati whispered, exasperated before they’d even really begun.

“What?” Harry questioned, before understanding glossed over his features, “Oh, right.”

He awkwardly took her waist and almost immediately stepped on her foot. He quickly retracted in apology, inadvertently taking half-a-step back and dragging her with him, so that she ended up stepping on his foot this time.

“The right,” she gritted, indicating the direction with a quick nod of her head. Harry tried to follow suit, taking a wide step to the right. When he placed his left foot down however, it caught on the bottom edge of her beautiful pink _lehenga_. He quickly muttered out another apology, but it was of no use. Harry barely improved over the course of the song, especially as a number of other couples joined in on the dance floor.

The pair fumbled around together like that until Parvati finally lost her patience. They stopped moving abruptly, and Harry had to catch himself to stop from falling face first to the side.

Parvati was fuming.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’d rather you hadn’t asked me at all! You’re the worst, Harry Potter!”

She stomped away, as if to emphasize her disdain, but he knew it was really to draw more attention to him from all of the students and faculty dancing a mere few feet away.

Among them, Harry spotted Draco and Pansy. Their mouths slightly hung open as if they had paused mid-sarcastic comment to stare at whatever latest mockery Harry Potter had made out of himself.

Harry rushed out of the crowd and off the dance floor then, forcefully pushing his way past happy couples and flowing dresses, ignoring protests of “Hey, watch where you’re going!” and “What’s wrong with you, wanker?!”

In an attempt to quell his frustration, he sat down at an empty table with a huff and quickly downed a glass of sparkling pumpkin juice. He observed the crowd again, having completely lost his date and resigned to his fate as the boy who lived, only to live a life of utter loneliness and ineptitude.

Harry stared at the floor, taking note of his shoddy dress shoes and bitterly trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. He supposed he should have learned how to dance before coming to a ball, but it wasn’t like he was going to ask _Ron_ of all people, to teach him. He’d never had parents to show him the proper etiquette for fancy events like this, and the Dudleys would've laughed in his face if he’d ever claimed to be attending such a thing.

_“You? Who would want to dance with you?”_

They would have said it with a dismissive laugh, taking it like the joke Harry was beginning to think it was.

Just then, a hand extended itself in front of him. He stared down at the pale palm for a heartbeat before his eyes slowly widened in recognition. Slender fingers flexed and unflexed impatiently.

“I’m not going to kill you, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes followed the pristine white sleeves up to Draco’s face, which bore a pleased smirk and a raised eyebrow. His blonde shock of hair was gelled on one side, the other a flurry of bangs that hung just over his eye in an unfair way that screamed sexy and stylish all at once.

He swallowed his surprise, and intelligently replied, “Wh-what?”

Draco rolled his eyes, and Harry followed the movement of those gray orbs silently. He was patiently holding his breath. For what reason, he wasn’t sure. But then again, nothing seemed to be making sense right now.

“Dance with me, Potter.”

And that was so characteristically Malfoy, not to ask but to demand he dance with him, that Harry released the breath he was holding. If he had been feeling a little more sane right then or perhaps a tad less lonely, Harry might have said something like “In your dreams, Malfoy.”

Instead, the honest part of him came out at full force, baring his soul with it.

“But I don’t know how,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Draco smirked then, and before Harry could protest, he extended his hand again and took Harry’s wrist, pulling the brunette to his feet and dragging him toward the dance floor.

He craned his neck back to glance at Harry, a familiar spark of mischief lighting in his eyes and a smile so bright Harry thought he’d go blind as he said, in that smooth yet raspy voice of his, “Looks like I’ll have to show you how it’s done, Potter. Don’t say I never do anything for you."

They paused then, in the midst of a number of unfamiliar faces. Draco put his hands on Harry’s hips, and Harry automatically raised his arms to place them either side of Draco’s head. He stretched his fingers lightly against the Slytherin’s shoulders. They were broader than he expected.

“Why do I have to play the girl’s part?” he protested, flustered and quickly feeling the heat rise to the tips of his ears.

“Oh don’t be such a baby. How are you going to learn if I don’t show you first?” Draco began in that haughty tone of his, “Put your feet on mine.”

Harry wanted to protest that too, but then he realized Draco was earnestly trying to help him, so he let just the tips of his dress shoes rest on the taller boy’s. He looked down at their feet, reminded again of how they looked especially ratty and old in contrast to Dracos shiny black ones.

“Eyes on me.”

His head snapped up and suddenly Draco’s face was closer than he remembered. They moved in sync, Harry following Draco’s pace as it quickened and slowed.

“When I push you like this,” the hand on Harry’s waist tugged with a slight pressure weighted toward the left, “it means we’re going to turn this way.”

Draco swiftly moved them to the left, and Harry noticed that the couples around them were moving similarly.

“And this,” Draco continued, gently pressing in the heel of his palm, ”is an indication for you to step backward.”

“How do you know when to move me, and which way?” Harry asked.

“Listen to the music,” he said, and Harry did. Or at least, he thought he was listening, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be listening for.

“A good dancer can pick up on the messages in the melody and let the music guide his movement. A great dancer, however, can read his partner, without ever having danced with them before.”

“You must be a great dancer, then,” Harry admitted before he could stop himself.

“Of course. My mother’s been dancing with me from a very young age. A true Malfoy would rather be dead than caught acting unprofessionally on the dance floor,” Draco scoffed.

“Of course,” Harry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

He heard it then. The melody of the piano and the strings, weaving a tale of notes and crafting a world outside of the one they were actually moving in. For the first time, Harry could make out the rhythm that the rest of the room was dancing to. He started to breathe with it too and thoughtlessly let his feet move with Draco’s. He followed the tugs at his waist without complaint and started watching for the subtle cues in Draco’s movements. The way he slightly leaned in whenever they moved backward or forward, the tilt of his shoulders right before they turned.

And he understood.

Like all things, be it spellwork or his social life, Harry was overthinking things.

“Having a good time, Potter?” Malfoy asked, and Harry knew he was simply poking fun at him, trying to rile him into raising his defenses.

But he was. He was having so much fun.

“Yes!” he said, a little too loud, letting the smile he’d been holding back break loose on his face.

Draco almost stumbled then, but swiftly righted himself as though nothing had happened.

“G-good,” he said, looking sheepish. It was so uncharacteristic that it had Harry laughing heartily, a bright color in the ache of his voice. They were moving faster now, approaching the climax of the song, and with each step, each note, Harry felt his breath being stolen by the wind through his dress robes.

“You look good,” Harry finally said, for he had been thinking about it all night and at this point, he might as well say it out loud.

‘What’s this? A compliment from Potter? Are you feeling alright, is the swaying making you dizzy?” Draco feigned concern.

“Oh get off it. I’m serious,” he paused, letting his eyes trace Draco’s face, from the high bridge of his nose to the curve of his lips, “You look good.”

Draco was silent then, his eyes searching Harry’s. With a question or an expectation, he wasn’t sure.

“Careful. When you say things like that, it’s enough to confuse anyone.”

‘What’s so confusing? Just because I tell a bloke he’s attractive doesn’t mean I suddenly want to snog him,” Harry quipped.

“Well, _do_ you?” Draco asked softly.

“Do I what?”

“Want to snog him?” he paused pointedly, “Snog me, I mean.”

Harry felt his heart seize in his chest then, the panic rising in his throat, a mix of bile and heat, like he’d just downed a shot of firewhiskey. Was Draco insinuating that he really wanted to kiss him right now?

The thought filled the rest of his mind with fog, and without warning, Harry spoke, his mouth certainly no longer connected to his brain.

“Well, I wouldn’t turn you down.”

“Not saying ‘No’ isn’t the same as saying ‘Yes’, Potter.”

“Then, yes.” Harry blurted, before he could think to take it back.

His next breath was met with Draco’s lips against his, tasting of peppermint and chapstick. The brush of the blonde’s long lashes against his skin had Harry’s eyes fluttering shut as he pressed softly back. His heart pounded in his ears and he found that he could no longer hear the chatter of the crowd, or even the music in the air.

_Merlin’s beard, I’m kissing Draco bloody Malfoy._

At first, they moved slowly against each other, testing uncharted waters. As soon as it became clear that neither wizard would pull away, the firm grip on Harry’s hips lifted in favor of an arm wrapping around his waist, a palm at Harry’s back pressing him closer against Draco’s lithe frame.

The soft, teasing kiss between them turned desperate then, and Harry found himself chasing that small, pink curve every time it pulled away for a fleeting breath. Draco’s tongue was hot against his, and the fog in his mind had only grown heavier.

Harry thought the room around them had gone silent, but he soon realized that it was just as loud as before. Everyone was dancing or chatting away with willing partners, and any attention laid upon the two, entranced in snogging each other in public, had been brief and passed without incidence. The room hadn’t stopped to stare with gaping mouths, and no one had called, “Check it out! Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g! First comes love, then comes...”

Time marched on around them, the universe unphased while Harry’s own world had just been torn down by the revelation that Draco was, in fact, a bloody good kisser.

He reluctantly pulled back, emerald eyes opening to meet that cloudy gray. Before the moment could turn from present into past, Draco leaned back in for a chaste kiss, his nose trailing against Harry’s as he pulled back for real.

“I, I just. That was..” Harry scrambled for the right words, a flush still high on his cheeks, “I—”

“Careful Harry, you might burst a blood vessel if you try too hard to use that pea-sized brain of yours.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether to laugh, because the schoolboy insult was simply too immature to ignore, or to stop breathing, because Draco had just called him by his first name, like they were _familiar._

Before he could properly respond, however, the atmosphere in the room shifted, and suddenly people were filing out in large groups. Harry finally noticed that the last song had ended. He hadn’t even heard the announcement to return to their respective house dormitories and turn in for the night.

Over Draco’s shoulder, he saw Crabbe and Goyle before he heard them.

“Hurry up, Draco, we haven’t got all night,” Crabbe called, a slight tease to his tone.

“What was this—,” Harry rushed to say, only to be cut off again.

“Later, Potter,” Draco said with a wink as he ran his fingers down Harry’s arm before gripping tightly at his hand and letting go, like this had all gone according to plan and Harry was none the wiser.

And just like that, he was gone.

What had happened? Did that kiss mean something, or was Harry supposed to pretend that was all it was? A simple kiss? A momentary lapse in judgment?

Harry wanted to say that’s what it was, but he knew better than to lie to himself. The warmth in his chest still had not faded. Rather, it felt like something was screwed tight in the pit of his stomach. Hot and coiled and falling into dying embers, purpose left cruelly unfulfilled. His dance with Draco played like a tape on rewind in his mind’s eye.

This was Draco, someone who had been nothing but a pain in the arse since the day Harry had rejected his offer of friendship and sided with his fellow Gryffindors. This was a boy who lived under his father’s thumb and knew nothing of the life Harry lived, of the trials he’d had to go through to get to where he was.

Yet, in those fingertips that were clean of dirt and hardship was a press of delicacy, and in those eyes, a storm of mischief and uncertainty. In the fold of Draco’s jibes and in the air between his ragged breaths, Harry had felt the flicker of companionship, held back through careful words and calculated movements. Like all he knew how to do was keep Harry an arm’s length away, but all he wanted to do was pull him into his embrace.

Harry wanted it too. To be held in those arms. To dance and sway to a rhythm of his own choosing.

But they were too different. A valley of secrets and lies rested between the peaks of their lives, and while Harry did not know what kinds of pressures caused Draco to take on the persona of a snobby pure-blood during the day, he was starting to think that he’d gotten a taste of the lips behind the mask for one night and one night only.

“Later, you prat,” Harry spoke the words into the cold, winter air, a fondness in his tone that wasn’t there before.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! pls comment or hmu on tumblr @kannjou - i'm lonely ><


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